


No Space Among the Clouds For Me Now

by jesstiel (jseca)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 17:19:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jseca/pseuds/jesstiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has fallen, leaving him simply as 'Cas'.  Humanity is a strange thing, a club he never had any particular want to be part of, but thanks to Metatron, choice didn't come into the matter.  Being the cause of the fall of Heaven is apparently just one of the perks of this lack of free will. It's lucky, then, that he has the constant of the Winchesters and a prophet by his side to keep him calm through this storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Space Among the Clouds For Me Now

Castiel (Cas, now, just Cas) does not know how long he simply stands there, silently watching as his brothers and sisters fall to the earth with thunderous crashes from what he (what _they_ ) could once have called home.

 _‘I’m afraid I might kill myself,’_ he had told Dean in a run-down motel room.  The feeling is not even comparable to where he finds himself now.  All that keeps him going is both a strange new sensation of what has to be human preservation in even the most dire of circumstances, and what he knows to be absolute fact: he must fix what he has done wrong, whatever it takes.  That had been the goal in the first place, he recalls distantly as he hears another one of his brethren fall _(fall)_ and impact earth. 

So much for good intentions.

After what seems like a long, long time, Cas dimly registers what sounds like an alarm sounding off in the distance.  Despite not wanting to look away, when he does turn round to see if he can make out the source of the noise from where he is standing, he chokes out another sob as he sees yet more of the same; a 360 degree view of the devastation he has wrought. 

He pushes on forward, focusing as hard as he can on simply following the sound of the alarms.

0o0o0o0o0

‘ _Maybe Metatron has some magnanimity in him after all,’_ Cas thinks bitterly as he stares down the door of the now-familiar bunker, the source of the alarms.  He knows, rationally, that it is one of the safest places he could be right now, and is _almost_ grateful for being cast there, of all the places in the world he could have been flung, human and helpless. He also, however, has no idea how the Winchesters will react to his being there.  Dean knew how it would have to go.  He would know that Castiel had to have had a hand in heaven’s fall. 

It is for this reason that Cas _is_ grateful that the Impala is nowhere to be seen.

The skyfall has slowed down considerably on his way to the bunker, though Cas has been haunted by the incessant sounds of his siblings crashing to the earth as he followed the sirens. They, too, have stopped, leaving an eerie quiet over the dawn that is breaking.

Too many times to count, he has been overcome with the urge to spread his wings and simply _fly_.  It comes to him again as he wishes he could soar through the walls of the bunker, rather than have to wait for its owners to return and allow him inside.  He is not the Winchester’s _pet_ , he thinks angrily, and slams his fist against the bunker in a sudden fit of frustration.

Though, he remembers suddenly, Kevin had been there. 

 He raises his fist again, more tentatively this time, and knocks on the door, hating that even this simple action leaves him feeling so overwhelmingly useless.

“H.. hello?” Cas might have sighed in relief, had it been a human action that came easily to him.  Instead, he simply registers the shake in Kevin’s voice – the prophet, who has been through so much, still scared.   Still only human.

“Kevin?” He calls out, loud enough to be heard through the thick metal of the bunker door, though his voice sounds rough from underuse. (And also, Cas thinks quietly, from the echo of the angel blade that had been dragged so calmly across his neck not so long before.)

“Castiel?!” Instantly, he can hear that Kevin sounds more enthused, despite having been flung across the room by him the last time they had seen each other.  What was that human saying?  Misery needs company?

“Yes.” At this, the door slides open just a little, and Kevin’s face appears in the gap, only to be quickly followed by the customary water gun aimed directly at Cas’s chest.  Once Kevin has assured himself that it is indeed Castiel standing at the door, he swings it open to allow him in.  He doesn’t waste any time in getting down to the important things at hand.

“What the hell is going on?!” He sounds distraught, bordering on manic, pacing up and down the room as Cas slams the door shut. “I was just about to go leave for supplies, but then the bunker started going _crazy_ , all the lights went on, and there were _crashes_ outside -,” He pauses as if hitting upon a sudden realisation, and swings back ‘round to Cas, throwing out an offending finger.  “And you!  Where did you even come from?  Where are Sam and Dean? I’ve been trying to contact them, but they’ve dropped off the radar, _agai -.”_ His arm drops down to his side, frowning as his train of thought switches to yet another track.  He seems to be slowly figuring things out.  “Hey… why didn’t you just, I dunno, teleport into here, anyway? ‘Angel of the Lord’, right?”

Cas, in lieu of adhering to the rapid-fire questions round, blinks at Kevin once or twice, only to decide that collapsing to the ground as exhaustion hits him like a tonne of bricks is the way to deal with it.  The last thing he hears before his human mind temporarily shuts down of its own accord for the first time in his lifetime are the Words, as spoken by a true prophet.

“Oh, crap.”

0o0o0o0

“He just kind of turned up at the door.  Yeah.  … I don’t know.  I mean I could actually pick him up, is that something you can do with an ange – yeah.  Okay.  Well.”

As Cas comes to, he has a few base realisations:

1)      He must have fallen asleep. (If that’s what you could call it.)

2)      He is not, thanks to Kevin’s human decency, waking up on the floor of the bunker, but in the bed of the room he had been allocated the first time he had arrived, judging by his surroundings.

3)      Kevin is talking to someone on his cellular device, perched on the edge of the bed.

He takes a long, shaky breath as he listens to whichever of the Winchesters is on the other end of the line, and slams his eyes shut.

“So what Naomi said -,”

 _Naomi._ Cas’s stomach churns in a way he’s never felt before, leaving him feeling uneasy in more ways than one.  His eyes, only half shut, shoot open.  He makes an attempt to speak, only to find his lips and his throat too dry.  After a few seconds, he attempts speech once more.

“Who…?” He manages to say, before suddenly letting out a cough as his still-dry throat protests.

Kevin pauses in whatever he was about to say, turning his head round to face Cas.   “Hey, he’s awake.” He comments, though not airily enough to be casual.  He sounds.. nervous.  “I don’t know if - ” He takes the phone away from his ear and presses it to his shoulder for a moment. “Do you want to talk to him?”

 _Is he angry?_ Is Cas’s first thought, regardless of which ‘he’ Kevin even means.  He presses his lips together contemplatively, before pushing himself up on his elbows to better see what’s going on.  It takes a lot more effort than he was expecting, but he manages.

“Yes.” He murmurs, extending an arm out to take the phone.  Once he has it, he presses it against his ear, and waits.

“…Cas?” 

Cas feels the strange sensation of both instant, deep relief, and paralyzing fear.  He cannot place the tone in Dean’s voice.

“Dean.” Cas replies, sinking back onto the wall behind him.  There are a few seconds silence, and all he can hear is Dean’s breathing.

“You - ,” Dean pauses, and Cas can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, trying to figure out just where to start from.  Eventually, he decides on, “look, we’ll be back at the bunker soon.  Sam’s still not 100%,” ( _so he’s alright_ , Cas thinks with relief) so we’re taking things a bit slower, but at least there it’ll be safe.  How are things your end?”

Cas almost laughs thinking of the number of answers that could be given to such a deceivingly simple question.  He thinks that Dean is probably aware of the weight of it, (he _has_ to know what has happened in the past few hours, after all) but is ignoring it, as Cas would only expect.  He joins in, for now.

“Things are not quite as bad as they could be.” It’s the truth, but only by the tiniest of percentages.  He comes to the sudden realisation of _I need you_ , in its many different facets (- _to not be angry with me, - to accept what I have become, even if I cannot, - to be here)_ , but puts it silently at the back of his mind, for now.

“Right, okay, well.  At least you made it back to  – to the bunker.” Dean stumbles over his words a little, and Cas wonders what it is that he’s trying to say.

“You should focus on getting Sam back here safely.” Cas says, pulling the conversation’s focus onto what he knows will be most important to Dean, and dodging many bullets in one go, too tired to deal with what is likely to be a highly charged conversation.

“Yeah, okay.  We’ll be there in a few hours.”

“Oka -,” But Dean has already hung up, leaving Cas with the buzzing of a dead line, and a prophet to deal with.  Cas slowly hands the phone back to Kevin, shifting a little with the realisation that he feels unexplainably self-conscious.

So far, he is not enjoying any of his human experiences.

“They told me what went down.” Kevin tries after a moment of awkward silence, shifting himself properly up onto the bed.  Cas thinks absently to himself that this is probably the first proper conversation he will have with him.  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not the first time I have caused a catastrophe such as this.” Cas remarks bitterly.  Kevin’s eyes widen.

“Hey, I mean, you shouldn’t – this wasn’t you _fault_ , right?” He’s really trying, and Cas does try to appreciate that.

“It rests on my shoulders.” He replies simply, and Kevin can’t seem to find a good answer to that.  Cas changes tact a little.  “What did Sam and Dean have to say?”

“They just sounded overwhelmed by it all, I guess.  Not that I can blame them.  I mean, they didn’t sound angry, or anything?  They just had to explain it all real quick, let me know they were still alive before coming back here.” Kevin shrugs.  “Just another day as a Prophet of the Lord.”

“If that position still holds any weight.” Cas murmurs, painful though it is to voice, let alone think.  “Metatron holds heaven, now.”

“Yeah, well.” Kevin holds up the angel tablet, which Cas realises must have been sitting by his side the entire time.  The pull towards it that he used to feel down in his Grace is completely gone, and all he can bring himself to see now is a slab of rock.  “I can still just about make sense of this, so I’m gonna keep at it while I still can.” Cas nods in approval.  “Speaking of which, I guess I’ll go ahead and get started on that again.  I bought you some water, and there’s a few snacks there if you need any.  I mean, I didn’t know if angels need any of it, but I guess –.” He stops suddenly.  “Umm.”  He runs a hand nervously through his hair, remembering his newly found out information.  “Sorry – it’s been a long day, I –.”

“Kevin, don’t worry about it.  Thank you for the sustenance.” Castiel manages, though he cannot quite keep the hint of sadness from his voice that threatens to spill out at any moment’s notice.

“Yeah.  Okay.  I’ll drop back in a bit.” And with that, Kevin gets up from the bed and leaves the room quietly.  As the door clicks shut, Castiel has the overwhelming urge to cry from frustration, from pain, from being so unsure of _everything_ as it stands.  His short conversation with Dean was not nearly enough to gauge anything at all.  Instead of crying, though, he takes a few deep breaths, a few large gulps of water, and eats a cookie, though he does not particularly register the taste.  Eventually, exhaustion takes a hold of him, and he finds his way back to unconsciousness.

0o0o0o0

The first thing Cas does when he wakes up is wonder why on earth he is in a bed in the first place.  He does not _sleep_ , he watches, protects, observes –

Oh.

It all comes rushing back to him far quicker than his newly-human mind is fit to deal with, and the memories _hurt._   It is a decidedly bad start to the day, with the internal wounds and the images still fresh on his mind.  Perhaps one of the most terrifying thoughts, above all this, is that there is nothing he can do about it.  He cannot fly to find any of his brothers or sisters, and he would not have the first idea how to find them if he could. 

For a while, he simply stares at the ceiling, unwilling to move.  The human mind is a betrayer unto itself, he discovers.  Once a thought has been brought to mind, it cannot be discarded easily, creating an endless loop of images he does not want to have repeating behind his mind’s eye.

He is mercifully roused from it when he registers voices echoing through the bunker.  The Winchesters must have returned, he thinks dimly, and heads out of bed to go find them.

“Cas?” He hears Sam’s voice, sounding as strained as he feels, as he heads into the main area of the bunker, and looks over to find the source.  There are three pairs of eyes on him, two Winchesters and a prophet.

“Sam.” He acknowledges, voice still not quite up to scratch.  “I’m glad to see you safe.” 

“You too, man,” Sam smiles hesitantly.  The both of them are broken, and they know it.  Cas can see the physical state that Sam is in; months of damage that is still taking its toll, and the new handkerchief wrapped securely around his hand. Sam, on the other hand, was witness to the fall of Castiel’s home; his family.

Cas nods in acknowledgement, and then slides his eyes tentatively over to Dean, who is staring at him with what is, after years of being able to read him with simply a glance, a terrifyingly blank expression. He hesitates, just a little.

 “..Dean.”

“Tell it to us straight, man,” Dean says stoically. No pleasantries here.  Cas sighs heavily, walking down to the table and falling into a chair.  He takes a moment to distance himself as much as possible from what he is about to say.

“Metatron’s intentions were not as I thought.  He.”  Cas lowers his head a little as the memory comes flooding back. “He took my grace.  It was the final component for a spell to tear heaven apart, and fell all angels.”

“So you’re… human?” Sam asks, not unkindly.  Cas understands that it is vital the Winchesters have all the information needed.  He nods slowly.  From the corner of his eye, he can see Dean’s face visibly soften.

“I failed my home,” he murmurs, darkly.  “Again.”

“We’ll figure it out, Cas.” Dean says suddenly, his voice stronger than Cas had expected.  When he looks up, surprised, Dean looks determined.  “I - we get it.  You had good intentions.”  Maybe there’s sympathy in there, too?  Cas almost can’t bring himself to believe it.  “Turns out Metatron was the biggest dick of them all, is all.”

 “It was wrong to trust him,” Cas admits, though not entirely willingly.  _And it’s not the first time I have put my trust in the wrong entity,_ he thinks darkly. 

“That as may be, were you really gonna trust _Naomi_?” Dean asks, flinging his arms out to emphasise his point.  “The things she did to you, man.”

“She helped you to save Sam,” Cas points out bluntly.  Dean stares him down for a second or two before lowering his arms, sinking back into his chair.  Sam is looking between the two of them, obviously confused.

“She did?”

“Yeah, she’s the one who warned us about your potential point-of-no-return.” Dean explains to his brother quickly, as if he doesn’t want to linger on the subject for too long.  _Still open wounds_ , Cas thinks.  “And I am going to be forever in her debt for that, that’s absolutely for sure, but Cas, she _tortured_ you.”

“Her intentions were…”

“The same as yours!  Save your home, whatever the cost, right?”

Cas looks up sharply at this, surprise flooding his features as he stares Dean down.  They have been here before, he realises, but they are drastically different people, now.

 _Stand behind me, the **one** time I ask, _ he had begged.

 _You can kiss my ass._ Dean had replied.  _Rapahel, blah blah blah.  I’m not asking.  I’m telling you, **don’t.** Just ‘cuz._

Could it be possible that the Dean sitting before him, staring intently back at him, is truly on his side?  Has he truly earned forgiveness?

It feels like an age before Cas finally speaks again.

“I thought you would be.” He hesitates.  “.. Angry.”

“Angry?” Dean frowns.

“For.” Cas sighs, taking a moment to stare up at the ceiling to mentally prepare himself to speak. “For nearly getting Sam killed in not trusting the right person.  For that matter, not putting my trust in the right person, _again.” For leaving you behind again_ , he does not voice, because although it’s true, it was not without justification.

“Let’s get one thing straight right now, Cas.  I still have Sam, not just because of Naomi’s tip off, but because _you_ were able to get us there in time -,” his voice breaks almost imperceptibly again, but he brushes if off quickly.  Sam glances at his brother at that, and Cas wonders again just what exactly happened when Dean went to save him. “ – and – fallen or not, whether you put your trust into the wrong person or not, which, let’s be honest here: Metatron was a wildcard to us all; we still have _you._ And right now, _that_ is all that matters.  We can deal with all this crap together, as a _family_.  That includes you too, Kevin.”

“Right.” Kevin nods a little shakily.

Cas is silent for a while, processing what he has just heard.  Underneath all the inner turmoil that he is currently experiencing – the pain, all these new human emotions and functions – Dean’s impromptu speech has allowed a small amount of warmth to permeate his thoughts.  When his vision refocuses, he realises that Dean is still staring him down, waiting for something from him.

“Thank you.” He replies sincerely.  Dean nods stiffly.  Spiel over with, he leans back, pressing his eyes tightly shut for a moment.  Cas takes the opportunity to turn to Sam.  “How are you holding up, Sam?”

“I guess I could be worse.” Sam attempts a smile with the black humour.  Cas can see the effort that he has to put into speaking every word.  “Honestly, I’m pretty exhausted.  We’re thinking that maybe I’m still linked to the trials – to Metatron’s word, y’know, because _something_ was happening to me when heaven… when it broke open.”

“He mentioned ‘resonating’, right?” Dean inputs.

“Right.  But we don’t actually know.”

“It’s possible.” Cas nods.  “At this juncture, however, nobody besides Metatron himself would be able to give you a clear answer on that, I think.”

“Just great.” Dean sighs, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

“It’s okay.  First we need to make sure that I’m actually purging myself of these demon trials.” Sam says, a little shakily.  Cas can tell that there are obviously a lot of things on his mind. “But we can think about that later.  I think I’m gonna go rest for a bit.”

“Okay.  Lemme know if you need anything, little brother.” Dean acknowledges, giving Sam a small, encouraging smile accompanied by a light punch on the arm.  “We won’t be going anywhere for a while.”

“Sure.” 

0o0o0o0

A few hours and a few phone calls later (Garth, making sure to check in and find out if the Winchesters were still alive, and to relay the many panicked calls he had been receiving from hunters across the country; to let them know that _he_ was okay.  Charlie, distraught after seeing an angel touch down in person.  Dean had told her to come by, if she could), Sam is still resting, and Kevin is back to work translating the angel tablet.  (“I mean, the sooner the better, right?”)

Cas is more than a little lost.  Time seems to be going 1000 times slower now that he has fallen, and every single moment is taking up thinking about the events of the past 24 hours.  He is trying his best to keep everything at bay, but it isn’t easy.

He had contemplated sleeping again, but the sun is still up, so instead he drags a chair into the library (and just thinking of how little effort that action would used to have taken -) and begins to read.

This is how Dean finds him two hours later, deep into one of the many books on mythological lore.  Cas doesn’t even notice that he’s there until Dean’s brought up a chair of his own.

“Dean.” He acknowledges, looking up from the book.

“Cas.” He replies, looking as if he is trying to find a good way to start the conversation he means to.  “How’re you holding up?”

This is rare, Cas knows.  Cas has known Dean for years, and this is not something that often happens – a wilful breach of the unspoken barrier between casual conversation and _meaningful talks._   He should take this chance whilst Dean is offering it.

“Would you like the honest answer?” Cas replies nonetheless.  He wants to make sure.  Dean seems a little confused at that answer, though. 

“Well, yeah, if that’s what you’re offerin’.”

“Not particularly well.”  He catches Dean’s eyes as he speaks.  “I have _fallen_ , Dean.”

“Cas.. about that.”  Dean says hesitantly.  “Did you.. fall like the others?”

“No.” Cas shakes his head, closing the book and setting it back onto its shelf.  “Metatron forcefully stole my grace, and put it into a vial.  I can only assume he still has it.  He transported me back down onto earth, just before heaven… before it opened.”  He explains, a little shakily.  It’s true that he wants to talk to Dean, he does, but this feeling of adrenaline at having to explain something that his body just does _not_ want him to is one that he doesn’t like having to get used to.

“Well, that’s something.” Dean mutters.  “So it’s like Anna’s grace?  We could get it back?”

“Potentially.” Cas agrees, though he doesn’t sound sure.  Inwardly, his mind is playing back ‘ _we’_ on a loop. 

“Okay.  .. Okay.” Dean rubs a hand across his face slowly, putting that subject on the back burner for now.  For until they can actually _do_ something about it **.**

“Dean.”  Cas seems to collapse in on himself, bringing his hand to his face as he speaks. Dean looks up, surprised at the sudden change in Cas’s tone.  He is tiring of this conversation already; he _needs_ to get out at least some of what he is feeling. “I am exhausted.  I’m aware of everything: of emotions, of the blood running through this vessel – that I have to _breathe.”_ He pauses, feeling the prick at the corner of his eyes that he knows now signals the beginning of tears.  “It happened so suddenly.”  He sighs deeply, burying his face in his hands for a moment.  “How do you _do_ this.”  He can hear his voice breaking.  He feels horrifically weak.

Dean’s hand on his shoulder is a heavy weight that seems to trigger a loud sob, taking Cas by surprise.  Dean too, if the slight stiffening of his hand is anything to go by.

“Cas..”

“I am _useless._ ” Cas chokes out.  “I can’t help you, or help Sam, or _anyone - .”_ At this, he feels Dean’s hand grasp his arm and drag him up so they are both standing. 

“ _Don’t say that.”_ Dean grits out, hand still on Cas’ shoulder.  He takes in the sight before him – his angel, his former angel, broken and crying in their bunker.  It’s too much, and he can’t not sling his arms around Cas, drawing him into a tight hug.  “It’ll be okay, Cas, we can get through this.  Hell, we’ve got through the freaking _apocalypse.._ through _purgatory_ , even..”

It's happened before, Dean hugging him, and it's as much as a shock to Cas's system as the first time - even more so now, perhaps, with all the  _human_ emotions cascading through him.  In Purgatory, knowledge that he never intended to join Dean in returning to Earth had prevented him from allowing himself to return the affection.  Here, however, he instinctively feels that doing so would offer comfort, and so he tentatively raises his arms and places them around Dean.  His head falls down onto his shoulder, and from there on he all but sinks down into the embrace, enjoying the warmth it offers.  Crying, he is quickly finding out, is a truly exhausting experience, and having a shoulder to rest on proves invaluable.

Cas feels like he should show his gratitude for Dean’s comfort in some way, and for reasons he cannot fathom, he remembers the shopping.  As he starts to calm down, his face still buried in Dean’s shoulder, he murmurs, “I bought you groceries, you know.”

“… What?”  Dean sounds thoroughly confused.  Cas allows himself a very small smile at this, before slowly beginning the process of dragging himself away from the hug.

“It’s where I went.  Where I first found Metatron.”

“… Groceries?” Dean repeats, now at arms’ length from Cas.  His eyebrow is raised in disbelief.

“As a way to ask forgiveness, I suppose.” Cas mutters, lifting an arm to wipe away the remnants of tears.  Halfway through the process, he freezes, realising he may have just opened up yet another open wound.  Dean, to his credit, only laughs softly, falling back into his chair.

“Right,” he mutters, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.  “What I would have given to see that..”

“Dean?”  Cas looks down at Dean, expression open.

“Nothin’.  Okay, so.  Forgiveness?  Look, man, clean slates here, okay?  I get it.  I do.”  Cas wants to believe Dean.  But he knows first-hand what has been happening over the past few months, particularly in relation to the angel tablet and all that came with it.  As he looks up, catching Dean’s line of sight, he can see a hardness there that Dean is evidently trying to hide.  Cas instinctively feels the need to fly away, to avoid what his mind is pressing at.  _Maybe_ , he realises suddenly, _that is part of the problem._

“You needed me,” he’s staring at the floor as he speaks, figuring things out.  He can tell that Dean’s frozen at his words, though.  As he looks up to Dean, he continues.  “You needed me, and I.  I went away.”  He tries not to think about just how many different scenarios he could be referring to, with that.

It takes a while for Dean to reply.  “I’m offering you a reboot, and you start with _that?”_

“I want to fix things, Dean.  As best I can.”

“Yeah, well.  One thing at a time, man.  A lot of shit’s gone down today, we can deal with...” He is momentarily lost for words.  “.. whatever.. with _that_.. later.”  He runs a hand through his hair, obviously becoming agitated.  His ‘chick flick’ quota for the day is already running over.  “I told you, Cas, what matters right now is that we’re all here and breathing, okay?  We’ll deal with it.”

“.. Alright,” Cas concedes. 

“Alright.” Dean nods.  “I’m out for the night.” He announces, pushing himself up off the chair again.  He pauses for a second to study Cas, frowning a little as he does so. “Were you really sleeping in that?” He motions to Cas’ general state of dress, which is the same as it has been since he took Jimmy as his vessel. 

“Is that.. a problem?”

“Problem?  It looks uncomfortable.  Don’t you have an inbuilt temperature gauge or anything, now?  Kinda comes with the package.”

“… Well, now that you mention it.” Cas murmurs, looking a little taken aback at the realisation that Dean is probably right.  He wonders at what might happen if he were to shed a layer, and so pushes the trench coat off his shoulders.  Dean watches with what seems to be light amusement.  (Though Cas once again finds himself annoyed at how _difficult_ it is to gauge simple emotions properly, now) After the coat has been deposited on Cas’ chair, he stands still for a few moments, gauging any changes.  He glances back to Dean.  “This does feel.. cooler.” He observes.

“Yeah well, no shit Sherlock.” Dean retorts, and although an eyebrow is raised, he’s smirking a little.  “Being a human, pro-tip uno: sleeping comes a lot easier when you ain’t got all that crap on.” He motions to Cas’ general state of being.  “And, y’know, you might wanna take a shower.” He pauses, mind whirring.  “And get a toothbrush.”  At Cas’ blank expression to all of his suggestions, he sighs, rolling his eyes gently.  “Whatever.  We’ll work on it tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, Dean.” Cas acquiesces.  “Goodnight.”

“Yeah, yeah; ‘night.” He waves a hand in Cas’ general direction as he heads back down towards his room, and then he’s gone.

A little later, when Cas is lying in bed, stripped of most layers, he is unable to sleep for hours.  He is too busy feeling the rush of blood through his veins, listening to the suddenly deafening sound of his pulse pushing it ‘round.  On the other hand, he is far too aware of the silence of the world around him.  As an angel, grace intact, he could hear _everything._ His grace reverberated with the earth’s motions; he could feel it thrumming through his very being.  Now, there is nothing.  No angel radio, no earth talking back to him.  It feels like he is in a vacuum. Without the weight of exhaustion forcing him into unconsciousness, it is very difficult to sleep, for all that. 

0o0o0o0

It isn’t surprising, then, that the sleep Cas wakes up from is a light one, having only consisted of maybe an hour.  He feels horribly drowsy.  He decides to take a shower; although it takes him a while to properly rouse himself to do so.  Beds, he finds out, are entirely too comfortable when one has just woken from a night’s sleep. 

 He does not want to bother any of the bunker’s inhabitants with asking how to go about what should be a simple task, so takes to the shower alone.  It takes a while to figure out how to aptly control the water temperature and pressure, not to mention he still isn’t entirely aware of the difference between ‘shampoo’ and ‘conditioner’, but he does feel refreshed once he’s finished, so he figures he’s probably okay.  It’s only when he’s done, towel slung round his hips in an imitation of the Winchester’s behaviour, that he wonders whether he should at least have asked for clean clothing before actually taking to the shower. The difference in smell between himself and what he had been wearing is… unpleasant.

Towel tied what he assumes is securely, he ventures out towards Dean’s room.  Out of all the inhabitants in the bunker, Dean’s clothing would be the most likely to fit him properly, so it seems logical. 

He bumps into him as Dean is making his way back to the same room.

“Woah, hey –,” it takes a moment for Dean to register the sight before him.  “Err.  I see you got the shower working.”

“Yes.  It was a pleasant sensation,” Cas muses.

“Hah, yeah, it - .. good… good water pressure.”  He collects himself.  “You planning on walkin’ around like that all day?”

“I was hoping to procure some clothing from you, actually.  I only have what I arrived in.” Of course.

Dean frowns.  “Oh, yeah.  Guess we’ll have to sort that out.” He’s quiet for a moment as he thinks.  “For now, I’ve got some stuff you can use.” He motions towards his room, opening the door for Cas. 

Cas takes a moment to glance round the room.  He thinks that it’s probably the closest he’s going to get to seeing the essence of Dean, now that he cannot simply _feel_ it, cannot resonate with it, so he takes it all in. “You have a nice room.” He comments.

 “Yeah, it’s something alright.  That mattress? It _remembers_ me.” Dean’s grin at this falters when Cas turns to look at him with a blank expression.

“Is that something inanimate objects should be able to do?” He asks, tilting his head to the side.

“… Never mind.” Dean turns to delve into the drawers, and pulls out an outfit consisting of boxers, jeans, and a loose fitting grey t-shirt.  “These should do for now.”

“Thank you.” Cas picks up the t-shirt first, sliding it on.  Once his vision returns after being briefly obscured by the grey material, he catches Dean’s gaze lingering on him, a strange expression on his face.  It’s gone before Cas can properly register it, however, so he goes for the boxers next. 

“Hey!” Dean seems to snap out of whatever reverie he had been in.  Cas is already dropping the towel, though, seemingly unaware of social etiquette regarding nudity, so he quickly rolls his eyes up and concentrates _very_ hard on the ceiling for the next 15 seconds or so.  When he tentatively drops his gaze back down, Cas is halfway through pulling the jeans on.  Dean has to stop himself from staring _again._   It’s the first time he’s ever seen Cas in anything but the tie and trench coat, so seeing him wearing his _own clothing_ is surreal, to say the least.

“Dean?” Cas asks.  _Dammit._

“Yeah, great, okay.  Hang onto those for now.” Cas nods in acknowledgement, and then there is a brief spate of what Cas realises might be ‘awkward silence’.  It’s broken, however, by the sudden rumbling of Cas’ stomach.

“Err,” Cas mutters, glancing down with a worried expression.  Dean grins widely at that.

“It’s okay, Cas, it’s just telling you its hungry, is all.”

“… It has never had a mind of its own, before.”

“Figure of speech, buddy.  Come on, let’s get you some grub.” He claps Cas amicably on the shoulder as he speaks, before turning and heading back out the door.

0o0o0o0

The plan for the new day unfolds with one main goal in mind: get Cas up and running in his new human life as quickly as possible, before new Heavenly developments hit the fan too hard and the Winchesters have to focus on those, instead.  This involves food (covered in part at breakfast: Cas was neutral on most food items offered, even bacon ( _“Everyone_ loves bacon, man!”), but did particularly enjoy the apple that Sam offered him), clothes, and all the necessary human supplies, all of which amount to a quick trip to the nearest mall.  Sam and Kevin opt to stay behind, the former to keep up his strength and to make sure he spends most of his time resting to combat the after effects of the trials, and the latter to continue with translating the tablet. (And partly to keep an eye on Sam, at Dean’s quiet request.)

It’s the first time Cas has been outside since the fall of heaven, but he keeps his cool.  He had attempted to don the trench coat for some facsimile of stability, but Dean had vetoed that decision, instead opting to stick it straight into the washing machine.  In general, Cas’s state of mind is helped along knowing that the amount of travelling he has done in vehicles recently has increased, so he doesn’t feel too strange in a car anymore. 

“Maybe I should learn to drive.” He muses as they speed down a highway.  Dean frowns.

“Hey, hey, one step at a time, remember?  It’s great you’re so gung-ho ‘bout this whole human thing, but take a few days to get adjusted at least before deciding you’re gonna take control of a machine, Cas.” 

“.. I didn’t necessarily mean in the Impala, Dean.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean does actually calm down at that.  “We’ll think about that when we need to.”  It doesn’t help that thinking about Cas and driving only takes Dean back to being in a van in 2014, watching Cas behind the wheel and popping yet more pills as he laments on ‘ _being part of a better club, once’._ Maybe it’s why he feels so responsible for Cas now.  He’s all too aware that in that alternate reality, his other self had been one of Cas’s few remaining links to the real world, meaning that somehow, for whatever reason, he held some responsibility for letting himslide down into what he can only think of as depravity (though, at the same time, buried deeper is the knowledge that in part, Cas had allowed him to become a stone cold killer, willing to sacrifice his friends -,) and he wasn’t going to allow that again.  “Let’s just focus on the important stuff for now.”

There are a few moments silence, causing Dean to glance over to Cas briefly.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Cas murmurs.  Dean frowns at that.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There are no doubt many important things that you and Sam could be doing right now.  And yet, for all that, we’re on the way to a mall… simply for my sake?”  Cas knows it isn’t a good idea to press these issues with Dean, but he feels they need to be said.  There is a strange pressure at the front of his mind that he has never felt before; one that feels as if it might explode if he doesn’t voice the thoughts that are building up. It makes him wonder just how on earth Dean manages to stay so repressed all the time.

“Dude, seriously?  We’re trying to _help._ ” Dean throws his hands up for a moment.  “It’s true, a lot of shit’s gone down, but we have no intel to go off of, no calls from Garth to tell us otherwise, no translations from Kevin, yet – until we do, there isn’t much we _can_ get done.”

Cas is silent for a while. 

“My apologies.”

“If you’re gonna go off on some crap about how you don’t deserve any of this, quit while you’re ahead.”  Dean sighs **.** “Look, the whole.. being flung into the life of a different species thing, it’s not like any of us wanted it.”

Apparently Cas is feeling particularly vindictive towards the world at large, because all he can say to this is “Because you needed me as an angel, correct? With all my powers still intact.  Not simply a.. ‘baby in a trenchcoat’.”

That seems to be a trigger for Dean, as he suddenly violently swings the steering wheel round and pulls the Impala over onto the roadside, jaw clenched.  As soon as he’s switched the engine off, he pushes his door open, and Cas hesitantly follows suit, watching Dean pace in front of the Impala a few times before turning to face him head on.

“Look, I’m gonna say this _once,_ Cas,” He says, voice low.  “I’m not gonna deny just how useful it can be to have an angel-buddy on your side, okay?  You’ve got us out of some tight spots before.  But, man, you are _family_ to us.  To _me._ That means more than just wanting to call you down from your cloud paradise every once in a while to ask for help icing some demon or whatever, you got it?  Hell, if I’d had it my way, maybe you wouldn’t have kept _disappearing_ every time something happened that you weren’t happy with!  Really puts a damper on healthy relationship progress.” Cas winces at that, despite knowing that he himself had attempted to bring up this very topic the night before.  “Maybe we’re helping you _because_ we see you as one of us.  Because we -,” Dean hesitates, rubbing a hand across his face as he thinks.  “ _I_ need you here.  Family doesn’t meanjust leaving each other lying in the dirt to fend for themselves, it means that we watch each other’s backs; that we trust each other enough for that to go without saying.”

Dean pauses, looking up to find Cas’s line of sight.

“If you could just stow your self-righteous crap and _accept_ that – hell, it’s been long enough –,”

“I do, I think.” Cas cuts in, just loud enough that it halts Dean.  “I needed to hear it.” He meets Dean’s eyes of his own accord.  “I’m sorry, Dean.”  The meaning stored in that one sentence could write an entire novel, Cas thinks at the back of his mind.

“Yeah, well, what’s family for, huh?”  Dean sighs, casting his gaze to the side for a moment. “Okay, are we done here?  Can we keep going, now?”

“Yes.” Cas replies, but then realises that there is something very important he needs to voice.  Almost instinctively, he reaches forward and grabs Dean’s wrist before he can make his way back to the driver’s seat.

“Cas, wha-,”

“I _do_ trust you, Dean.” Cas says firmly, staring straight into Dean’s eyes to affirm the point.  “Perhaps more than any other being, right now.”

Dean frowns as if he isn’t quite sure how to process this information.  “Well, okay, good to hear.” He says eventually, though he doesn’t seem to be entirely there when he does, like the weight of it all is too much to take in.  He gently tugs his wrist away from Cas’ hold, and slides back into the Impala.

0o0o0o0

Shopping malls, Cas decides there and then, are terrifying places.  They are noisy and there are strange smells coming from _everywhere_ , and each shop seems to serve a different purpose, the knowledge of which seem to be privy to everyone but him.  He sticks close to Dean, who luckily also seems to know exactly where they need to go.

They drop into a pharmacy to buy such essentials as new shower gels and toothbrushes, and then move to a cell phone shop, since Cas’s old one is long gone.  Cas hangs back whilst Dean deals with the shopkeeper (Cas was never particularly good at ‘social interaction’).  He gets bored around ten minutes in, so takes to moving ‘round the shop, playing with all the different display models.  Once he discovers phone gaming, Dean finds it difficult to drag his ass out so they can continue shopping.

“But Dean, I need to destroy the evil pigs - ,”

“Damn it, Cas, if you’re that enamoured with the game we’ll get it on your _own_ phone, okay?”

(Cas doesn’t mention that he is drawn to the game simply because he wants to feel like he is still able to save _something_ , no matter what the cause.)

Their next stop is into a few generic clothes shops to pick up some things for daily wear.  Cas allows Dean to lead the way, amounting to, aside from the essentials, an armful of plain t-shirts, jeans, and probably more plaid than is actually necessary, Cas thinks idly to himself, amongst other things.  He doesn’t complain, however.  He doesn’t really have the first idea where to start with clothing, neither does he have the motivation to choose items that are directly related to his new, human life.  It is still something he is attempting to distance himself from mentally, as much as he can for now.  Immersion into this new life is one thing, he thinks, but it’s hardly even been 24 hours.

He’s drawn out of his reverie by the familiar sound of Dean’s cell’s ring tone sounding off. Dean picks it up swiftly; no phone call can be a good phone call right now, after all.

“Hello?”

“Dean, De – it’s Kevin, I,” He sounds frantic.

“Alright there, Kev, just calm down there, take a few deep breaths or something.  What’s going on?”

“It’s Sam, he,”

“Sam?” Dean’s face instantly hardens, and his grip on the phone tightens perceptibly.  Cas looks up sharply from the rack of clothing he had been perusing.

“Yeah, he collapsed.  I’m not sure - I can’t really - ,”

“Is he hurt?” Cas can tell that Dean’s emotional gauge is quickly tipping over into ‘panicked’.

“I don’t think so? But, Dean, I think it’s – his arms are like, _glowing_ or something..”

“Shit, it’s gotta be another remnant from those friggin’ demon trials.  Cas!” Dean drops the phone to his shoulder, and grabs Cas’s with his other hand.  “Cas, you gotta get us over there.”

“Dean -,” Cas freezes. 

“Cas!” He isn’t shouting, but it’s close.  A few people turn to glare at him.  Cas simply stands there, expression forlorn.  He tries to convey what he’s thinking through expression, staring into Dean’s eyes as some sort of pitiful comfort.  He only wishes he _could_ carry out the task Dean is asking of him.

It takes a few seconds, but Dean’s eyes suddenly widen as everything that isn’t _Sam’s hurt something’s happened I should **never have left**_ stops for a moment.  “I mean.. I.” His hand slides slowly from Cas’ shoulder, and he swings round to face away from him, pulling the phone back up to his ear as he does so.

“Okay, Kev, I’m gonna have to trust you with this one.  Where did he collapse?”

“Just – onto the floor of the bunker.  I’ve gone through all the basic first aid procedures, but -,”

“Good.  I don’t expect you to be able to carry that sasquatch’s ass anywhere alone, so just get a cool towel or something and wait it out, okay?  Trial purging ain’t something hospitals would take to easily, so no 911 calls, either.” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose at this, squeezing his eyes shut.  “Whatever you do, _don’t_ leave him until he wakes up.  If there’s nothing in the next twenty, call me again, we’ll figure it out.” 

“Okay.”  Dean ends the call at that, taking a few seconds to compose himself and breathe a little slower to lower the beats per minute his heart’s currently thundering at.  He _almost_ jumps at the sound of Cas’s concerned voice behind him.

“Is Sam okay?”

“Yeah.” Dean turns back around, masking his expression with a small smile.  It doesn’t reach his eyes.  “Yeah, Kev’s got it all under control.”  He glances down to the clothing piling up in Cas’s arms, using I as a convenient subject changer.  “Wanna go get all that rung up?”

 _Looks like we’re just going to ignore the slip-up, then,_ Cas thinks dully.  “Yeah, okay.”

“Attaboy.” Dean claps Cas lightly on the shoulder again, decidedly more amicably, this time round. 

0o0o0o0

Just under twenty minutes later, Dean’s phone rings again.  It’s Sam, this time.

“Sammy!  Everything okay over there? You got Kevin all riled up, man.”

“Yeah, I know, I know – I’m okay.” He sounds a little out of it, but Dean pushes the worry back.  “I guess it’s something I’m gonna have to keep a look out for now, those blackouts.  Hopefully the purging process won’t take too long, but -,”

“ - if it goes on for more than a few days, might be worth checking through the Letter’s resources, see if they got anything on this.” Dean finishes.

“..Yeah.” Sam replies, not sounding all that convinced.  “Well, whatever, we’ll just have to see how it goes I guess.”  He changes track. “How are you and Cas doing?”

“We’re mostly finished up on the shopping side’a things.  One more important thing we have to go do, though.”  Dean pointedly ignores Cas’s quizzical look towards him at this.  “We’ll probably be back in the next few hours.  You gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Dean.  I’m gonna go sleep for a while, get it out of my system.”

“Alright, later, then.”

“What do you mean, ‘important thing’?” Cas asks as Dean pockets his cell. 

“Well, now that you’ve joined the humanity club,you’re gonna be open to demon possession.  No way we’re gonna let that happen.”  Dean explains.  He pulls down the neck of his shirt just enough to reveal the top of his anti-possession tattoo.  “So we’re gonna get you one of these.”  He doesn’t parse it as a question, simply a statement of fact, and Cas is in agreement: in no way does he want to become possessed by a demon, which is how they find themselves at a local tattoo parlour.

“Do you have any recommendations for the location of the tattoo?” Cas asks, looking over the diagram of the human body showing all potential options.

“As long as you don’t go with a tramp stamp, I think we’re fine.” Dean replies, grinning.

“Tramp stamp?”

“Yeah, this one here.” Dean points to the area around the lower back.  “You do _not_ fit the implications that go with that one.”

“Dean?”

“I don’t see you rocking the low-rise jeans anytime soon, y’know?”

“.. No, I don’t.”

“… Forget it.”

“Maybe here?” Cas points to the space between the drawing’s shoulder blades, where Cas’s wings would have met.

“Sounds like a plan.” Dean agrees.  He hangs around for a while, mostly because he’s a little curious as to how Cas will take to a tattoo needle.  Overall, it turns out, he’s a lot better than Kevin had been, but maybe a little less duck-to-water about the whole thing than Mrs. Tran was.

“Pretty impressive.” Dean remarks.

“You know, I may be human now,” Cas retorts (and the tattoo artist shoots the both of them a weird look, at that) “but I have been through _far_ worse than this, Dean.”

“I’ll give you that.” Dean replies with a grin.  “Okay, well if you’re all good here, I’m gonna go grab some grub.  Don’t go running off if it’s done before I get back.”

“Unlikely.” Cas deadpans, but nods briefly before closing his eyes and, apparently, relaxing into his chair.

“Friggin’ fallen-angels, man.” Dean mutters to himself as he passes through the door, though not without a hint of what he would never admit is fondness.  He heads off to grab a burger from a fast food joint round the corner, and ends up buying one for Cas, too.  It isn’t White Castle, but hey, the guy’s gotta have some variety in his life.

0o0o0o0

Just before they set off on the way back home, Dean switches Cas’s new phone on for him, and then switches on whatever music happens to be in the cassette player at the time (AC/DC, as it turns out),  letting Cas play with his new toy for the duration of the trip.

 He regrets this immensely when Cas finds the list of ringtones to browse through and sample.

“Dude, seriously?  Angry Birds would have been better than _that._ ”

They manage to make it home _without_ Dean murdering Cas (cause of death: annoying 8-bit tones), as Cas quickly switches to browsing the app store after that.

Once they get back to the bunker, Dean helps Cas put all his new stuff into his allocated room (making sure to explain such concepts as phone charging, hangars and toothpaste), and then the two of them go join Sam and Kevin at the table.  Sam seems to have brightened up since the phone call a few hours before, and as a sort of ‘congratulations for not dying again, Sammy’, Dean pours them all out drinks.  The four of them calmly talk the evening away, the jukebox acting as their background noise; a respite from what they known awaits them just around the corner.

 

 

0o0o0o0

 

Castiel has been through a lot of things in his long, long life; the years and the hardships he has had during his time with the Winchesters only represent the tip of the iceberg.  Even so, it does not stop the experience of a human nightmare being a chilling one.  He remembers flashes of the dream upon waking – his brothers and sisters falling around him as he watched from heaven, the feeling of suddenly being ripped down into the earth’s atmosphere – of his wings being forcibly torn away from his very being.  He had jolted awake seconds before he would have hit the ground in the dream, and his body had compensated, nearly throwing him off the side of the bed from the start of waking up.  His mind is a mess, repeating what he can remember of the dream on a loop.  There is a cold sweat at the back of his neck, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. 

His first instinctive thought is that he does not want to be alone.  He does not want to risk falling back asleep and being open to that sort of nightmare again.  With this in mind, he flings the covers off himself, and makes his way towards a place his troubled mind tells him is a safe haven: _Dean._

Once he has quietly opened the door to Dean’s room and is standing tentatively in the entrance to his room, however, he isn’t entirely sure what to do.  The cloud over his mind is starting to break, but he can still see the dream in his mind, the after images refusing to leave.

“.. So this is still a thing, huh?” He hears Dean murmur, and looks up in surprise.  He sounds like he’s still half-asleep.

“Dean.” He replies quietly.  It’s not really a statement, nor a question – just an affirmation that Dean is _there._

“How many times d’I gotta tell ya, Cas, watching people sleep.. it’s weird.” He’s gradually sitting up, but Cas can’t really tell what his facial expression is doing in the pitch black.

“I’m not,” Cas mutters, taking a step forward.  “I think I had a nightmare.”  He feels very small, admitting this.  Dean doesn’t exactly help by snorting a little at that.

“That all?  What, so I’m mommy now, huh?” He sounds almost amused at the thought.

“Dean.” Cas’ voice breaks before he can register that it’s happened.  He wants to show Dean the seriousness of the situation; make him understand that he just doesn’t need the sarcasm and wit right now.  “I dreamt about the fall of heaven.”  He cannot muster up the energy to hide behind euphemisms.  “My family.  I was falling with them.. my wings were burning up –.” He’s choking on his words, and he suddenly realises that he’s crying.  Dean’s gone quiet.  “I need you.”  He adds, not as an afterthought, but as the stark truth.

As Cas’ eyes adjust to the dark, he can tell that Dean is regarding him, but cannot tell how.  Eventually, however, he hears a soft “… c’mere.” Dean reaches out a hand which Cas takes gratefully, stepping onto the bed.  Neither of them let go once he’s on it, and instead Dean uses the grip to pull Cas lightly in towards him, throwing his other arm loosely around his shoulders.  “It sucks.  Trust me, I know. Me and Sammy could write entire novels about the nightmares we get.  Just another one of those human perks you’re gonna have to get used to.”  He still sounds drowsy, and Cas knows he’s got limited time before Dean drifts back off to sleep.  At the thought of having to be alone again, a sob makes his way through his body, and he buries his face into Dean’s shoulder. 

He isn’t there for long, though.  Dean moves back bodily, and props his finger under Cas’ chin, lifting it up so they’re eye to eye.  Before he can say anything, a confused utterance of ‘ _Dean’,_ or ‘ _wha -,’_ Dean is leaning in.  It’s a quick press of lips, nothing more than that, but it feels comforting – feels almost like coming home. 

“Dean.” He whispers, with something that might have been reverence, if he still had any left within him.

“C’mon.  Lie down, Cas.  I got you.”  Dean murmurs, but he does it himself, pulling the two of them back down.  With some quick adjustments, the covers are over both of them, and then Dean’s asleep again within seconds. His arm is thrown haphazardly over Cas’ waist, but it takes a while for Cas to actually register that.  He’s far too caught up in the thought of Dean’s lips against his; it’s quietened any lingering fear from the nightmare, replaced with a sense of wonder.  He doesn’t know how long he simply lies there, staring at Dean’s sleeping figure, wide-eyed.

When he finally does get back to sleep, he feels _safe_.  

 

0o0o0o0

 

Dean wakes up first.  In the hazy wake-up period, his trained alertness instincts attempt to kick in when he realises that he isn’t alone, but another set quickly chime in to tell him that no, it’s okay, you’re safe.  That’s when he actually looks over, and remembers.

_Cas._

Dean had drifted into consciousness for maybe five minutes at the sound of the door opening, so he only has a blurred memory of what happened.  It’s enough to make him wince, a little.  Of all the times… when Cas is already vulnerable, attempting to live out this new life that he wasn’t even given the free will to choose, Dean gave him yet something else to worry over. 

The fact that Cas’s arm is slung gently over Dean doesn’t help to make him think otherwise; people do strange things in their sleep, after all.  That’s also the excuse he gives for _his_ arm curled around Cas, but he doesn’t dwell on that too much.  He slowly removes it, watching for signs that Cas might be stirring, but he’s safe.  He flings the back of his hand over his eyes for a moment. 

Probably one of the most hard-hitting facts about it is that Dean knows, a hundred per cent, that he meant it.  He’s been slowly getting used to the idea that maybe, just maybe, he would be willing to test the waters with Cas.  _I need you,_ he had said, first surrounded by the purity of Purgatory, second on his knees in front of what should have been Castiel, broken hand held in place by the same being that broke it.  Contained in those three words were layer upon layer of meaning: _I need you to be here to help us out, to be my friend, to be family, to be here for me, to be **with** me._  

It’s not like he ever really considered the idea that perhaps Castiel could want the same.

But hey, half asleep it had seemed like the right thing to do; a comforting gesture.  And that’s when he remembers with shocking clarity:

_“I need you.”_

It had seemed like permission at the time, Dean thinks.  Even quieter, he wonders at the fact that Cas hadn’t exactly shied away from his affections.  But with all the layers of meaning Dean has found _himself_ giving to this simple phrase, he cannot for a second begin to unravel what Cas might have meant by it.  After all, their relationship is a complicated one, often ending up with Cas winging away with no explanation; he still isn’t all that certain why Cas couldn’t trust him to be around the angel tablet.  So far as Dean can tell, Cas has been pissed at him for the best part of the past year or so, since purgatory.  ( _Since Naomi’s mind control,_ his mind helpfully provides).  Somehow, though, they always seem to find their way back to each other, Dean thinks, somewhat sardonically. 

All of a sudden it’s too much for Dean to be dealing with at ass-o’-clock in the morning, so he drags himself out of bed and heads to the bunker’s living area.  Sam’s already up and eating breakfast, laptop out.  He seems deep in concentration.

“Mornin’.” Dean greets.

“Hey.”  Sam smiles up at his brother quickly. “I got word from Garth.  He’s been getting phone calls in from hunters reporting what could be fallen-angelic activity.  I’m looking up anything that might have happened in the past 24 hours.”

“Like what?” Dean asks, frowning.

“He mentioned anything from robberies to suicide.” Sam sighs.  “I guess we’ve got to imagine that thousands of fallen angels with Cas’s state of mind when he first came to Earth are roaming around, now.  Most of them probably don’t have a clue what they’re doing.”  Sam swings the laptop round to show Dean a map.  “This is the nearest case Garth found.  Worth a look, right?”

“As long as we don’t turn into a Fallen Angel Haven.  They might be fallen and clueless, but I betcha they’re all still dicks, just.. sans wings, now.”

“Especially since they’re all gonna have agendas.” Sam nods.  “For all we know, Cas is the only one who really knows what went down up there.  They’re gonna be wanting to find their way back.”

“No matter what the cost.” Dean muses quietly.

“Should we bring Cas with us?” Sam asks, glancing up at Dean with a questioning look in his eyes.  Dean isn’t entirely sure why he’s the one to make decisions for the guy now.

“For what?” The brothers look up sharply at Cas’s voice from the other side of the room.  He sounds sleepy.  Dean wonders if maybe he woke him up even after he had tried to subtly get out of bed for the exact opposite purpose.  Now that he can actually see Cas, he sees that he’s wearing one of the plain grey shirts and boxers.  It’s still surreal to finally see him out of the trench coat.

“We’re gonna go investigate some cases of what could be fallen angels.” Sam explains quickly. He glances at Dean briefly before continuing. Not that he would voice it, but Dean gets it.  Things haven’t exactly been peachy between him and Cas recently, and he supposes that Sam’s just trying to make sure things are back to normal before making any decisions.  Or, well, as normal as things can be with their formal angel-turned human.  That kinda turned the tables a bit.  “You wanna come along?”

Cas instantly becomes more alert.  “Yes, of course.” He nods.  “I’m sure my brothers and sisters will be lost and confused… I’d like to help them as much as possible.”

“Right.”  Sam nods, standing up as he pushes his laptop shut.  “I’ll let you guys get breakfast and we can head off, then.”

“You gonna be okay comin’ along, Sammy?”  Dean asks, trying and failing not to sound too concerned.  “No fainting in the middle of a job, y’hear?”

“Got it.” Sam smiles.  “I’ll be fine, Dean.  It’ll be good to get out again.”

Dean pointedly keeps watching Sam as he moves out of the room, avoiding the gaze that Cas is now undoubtedly throwing his way.  Dammit, he’s had more than enough ‘ _meaningful talks’_ in the past two days to last him the entire week, his quota’s gotta be running way over by now.

Still, he braces himself, deciding to get the ball rolling of his own accord.  He’s well aware that Cas would probably run into this sort of thing all guns blazing, after all.

“What d’ya want to eat, Cas?  I’ll fix us up something.”  He goes, shamelessly, for complete subject avoidance.

“I’m not particularly hungry, Dean.”  Cas replies absently.  Dean frowns.

“Wrong answer, man.  I hate to keep reminding you, but your vessel isn’t just a meatsuit anymore.  It actually needs fuel to get it through the day.”

“Regardless, I’m fine.  I’ll have something later.”  Cas says, and he still sounds kinda out of it, emphasised by the yawn that drags out the ‘er’ of ‘later’.  Dean sighs, shifting his posture into one more suitable for ‘well, I shoulda known this was unavoidable.’

“You know, a lack of appetite could be put down to a lack of _sleep.”_ Dean informs Cas pointedly.

“I slept.” Cas replies, somewhat shiftily.  “Much better, in fact, thanks to you.” Dean freezes for a moment.  _Yup, that’s blazing, alright._

“Well, that’s.  That’s great.” Dean attempts a smile, and then rethinks that halfway through the act of moving the required facial muscles.  He really isn’t sure what impression he’s trying to give off here.  It probably looks weird as fuck, he mentally berates himself, and tries to just _calm down_.  “Those nightmares still give you any trouble?”  Cas shakes his head.

“No.  No dreams at all, in fact.”  He smiles a little.  “It’s funny.”

When Cas doesn’t put all that much effort into elaborating, Dean frowns. “What?”

“In traditional human lore, angels are supposed to be the ones looking over and protecting humans.  Strange, then, that a human ended up protecting me.” 

 _Dammit._   There are a lot of responses to that, not many of them ones Dean would be willing to voice.  ‘But you aren’t even an angel anymore’ is one that he instantly discards.  What’s he even _supposed_ to say?  ‘Protecting’? 

“Don’t sound so happy about it.” Dean scoffs eventually, trying to keep the nerves from shining through.

“I’m grateful.  Nightmares are.. a new and unwanted experience.  I didn’t want to be alone after it.  I believe it is only human to seek comfort, correct?”

“So you came to _me?_ ” Dean asks before he can even think about it.  As the seconds go by, he instantly regrets it as his mind provides him with images of the other members of the bunker.  Not that he would have expected Cas to come to him for comfort in the first place, but it’s even weirder, and for reasons he still isn’t entirely able to admit stings a little to imagine him cuddling up to Sam, or _Kevin._ Inexplicably, he’s suddenly remembering the Green Room.

_We’ve been through much together, you and I._

_‘Four years later,’_ Dean’s mind helpfully provides, and all of a sudden the _inevitability_ of it all washes through him like a tidal wave.

Cas looks up, frowning just a little.

“Of course.” He says, like it’s God’s honest truth.  _Of course._   Dean can only force out a surprised breath, nervously glancing towards the wall. 

“’Of course.’” He repeats eventually, sliding his hand over his face slowly.  He’s startled out of the movement when he feels Cas’s hand gently touching his wrist.  He rolls his eyes to the ceiling, but doesn’t make any effort to force it away.  “What is this, some weird remnant of that ‘profound bond’ thing?”

“If that’s what you want to call it.” Cas retorts, and when Dean glances back down he can confirm that the fucker is smirking.  He’s _smirking._ After all, it’s not just Dean who was there and present for the ‘comforting’ in question. “And I’m glad I did.  I enjoyed your particular brand of comfort.”

“Oh.” Dean forces out.  “Didn’t know you were into that sort of thing, Cas.”  He tries, playing it off as casually as he can manage, which isn’t very.  His mind is pretty busy racing at the thought that maybe, just maybe, Cas might… need him, too.

Cas is really close, and when did that happen?

“I have very recently come to realise that there are some parts of being human which are decidedly better than others.”  Is all Cas has to say about that, murmuring it in a way that Dean _refuses_ to think of as seductively.

Dean frowns, his mind suddenly pushing into gear again.  He steps back to put a bit of distance between the two of them.  “No, wait.  _Hold on._   You’ve been pissed with me this entire damn year, and suddenly I’m your human comfort blanket?  I’m not buyin’ it.” He _can’t_. He let his guard down regarding whatever it is that’s between him and Cas in a moment of vulnerability, and he can’t wrap his head around Cas being 100% behind the whole damn thing.

“I was under _mind control,_ Dean.” Cas retorts, exasperated.  “Many of my actions this past year can’t be attributed directly to me.” 

“Yeah, sure, but this.. this _thing,_ we-,”

“Dean, _listen to me._ ”  Cas’s face has suddenly hardened, and Dean can tell he means business.  Distantly, Dean wonders where in the hell Sam got to.  “There are things you have not been privy to, this year, and I want you to understand.  I was under orders to kill you.  Nobody else but you.  Naomi had me kill thousands – _thousands_ of iterations of _you,_ so that when the time came I could ruthlessly cut you down where you stood in order to claim the angel tablet for Heaven.”

“ _What -,”_

“When it came down to it, I couldn’t do it, and I have _never_ been more grateful for _anything._ ” He looks up to force their line of sight together.  “And I understand now that it is _you_ who broke Naomi’s connection to me, Dean.  _You._ ”  He collects himself for a moment, and Dean swallows nervously.  He feels like the blood pumping through his body has turned to liquid fire as he runs through all the possible implications of what Cas is telling him.

“She asked me to choose.  Heaven, or you.”

“And you chose -  why?” Dean asks quietly.  Cas pushes forward to rest his forehead against Dean’s, and he closes his eyes.

“There is very little, Dean, on Heaven or Earth, more important to me than you.”  He nudges gently.  “I need you to understand that.”

Dean is, for once, at a complete loss for words.  No witty retorts, no nothing.  All he can manage is a quiet ‘Okay’.  Maybe, he thinks to himself, he can allow himself to feel like he deserves this one thing.

It’s Cas who pushes forward this time, a soft press of lips in imitation of the night before.  Dean leans into it, closing his eyes as he brings a hand up to wrap round the back of Cas’s neck.  He urges his mind to quiet.  There’ll be time for the inevitable panic later; for now he just wants to focus on _this,_ the more insistent slide of lips as he kisses back, Cas’s hands coming up around him, one wrapping around his shoulders, the other finding its way into his hair, clinging just short of tightly.

With the knowledge in mind that Sam, or even Kevin, could wander into the room at any given second however, Dean reluctantly pulls away, though he doesn’t move his hands for the time being.

The content look that Cas gives him as he does so reminds him all too strongly of their ‘appointment’ by the roadside a few years back. _Don’t ever change,_ Dean had told him, and if even that hadn’t happened, at least the smile’s stayed the same.

Shaking off the rose-tinted nostalgia, Dean claps Cas on the shoulder, grinning.  “Don’t think this gets you out of eating, dude.  Nutrition!  It’s important.  C’mon.  Can’t kick the shit outta Metatron without energy resources.”

0o0o0o0

Cas can’t say that he knows what even the immediate future will bring, and he cannot deny that he is feeling a little ill as the Impala tears along the highway towards their first destination.  He instinctively wants to help his siblings, but he has no idea if they will accept his help; if they will even believe that he is who he says he is.  A fallen angel cannot necessarily distinguish another fallen angel without the help of their Grace, after all, and that is the one thing they no longer have.  He will do whatever it takes, however, and if it means getting closer to finding Metatron and ‘kicking the shit’ out of him in order to regain his Grace and save his home, well, all the better.

He knows, as well, that with the Winchesters by his side he is stronger.  It still hurts to think of himself as powerless, useless, but he is getting used to the idea that maybe that won’t always be true.

At this thought, he glances up and catches Dean’s eye in the mirror, smiling at the brief wink that is sent his way before Dean returns to concentrating on driving. 

Cas does not know what the immediate future will bring, it’s true.  But no matter what, he is not alone to face it. 

-          End    - 

**Author's Note:**

> Title adapted from Florence and the Machine's 'Lover to Lover'  
> Thank you to my betas, [Jess](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KismetJeska/pseuds/KismetJeska) and [Ems](http://emzzyroo.tumblr.com)!! :D You're wonderful <3


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